Ray of Hope
by bobness
Summary: Arthur was declared missing for more than a year after being carried away by stormy waves. However, Alfred refuses to give up hope that his boyfriend is gone, even if everyone else has. Rated K plus for language.


**Oh, hey, Bob isn't dead.**

**I've just been busy recently. Accept my deepest apologies. While you lovely folks are awaiting the updates from my other stories, do enjoy this quick USUK oneshot, why don't you? It is featured in the USUK Short Story Anthology over on the USUK Livejournal page, which is a very amazing collection of stories from skilled USUK writers. And then there's me. Plop.**

**A big thanks to _keropla_ who drew the picture (which is the cover art) for this story. It is gorgeous and fabulous and I wish my story could live up to the art.  
**

**Anyway, enjoy!  
**

* * *

Everyone thought him to be strange. Hell, he even considered _himself_ to be strange. People didn't work lighthouse towers anymore. There were different sorts of lighthouses, different sorts of boats. It was the modern times and he still acted as if he were living in the late 1800's.

He wasn't, though. Sure, he kept up the lighthouse. He made sure the lights were working, he recorded every storm, he watched out for fishermen returning from a voyage and offered them a warm meal and a cozy bed. People, though, didn't seem to understand why he took his job as a lighthouse keeper so seriously. "Wasn't it Arthur who originally owned the lighthouse?" they would whisper to each other as he passed by on his way to work at the local car-repair shop. "Why is Alfred even _living_ there still? Arthur probably died a long time ago."

He acted like he didn't hear their gossiping. He acted as if none of it affected him. However, the name 'Arthur' would always send his heart sinking with the hopelessness of it all. Arthur was the reason he still lived at the lighthouse. Many would have thought that, after the disappearance of the short, grumpy Englishman, Alfred would have left, would have settled down, would have given up.

Alfred wasn't a quitter, though.

He knew his lover was still alive. A storm couldn't have killed Arthur so easily. He was the best sailor they had on this side of Maine, probably even in the entire state. It was just a small storm that probably deterred him from returning home that day he had gone out to sea by himself.

That day he and Arthur had their first fight.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Alfred entered the car shop, the scent of oil and rubber so different to what he was used to. No matter how long he worked there, he didn't believe he would ever actually _love_ it. He had fonder memories of working as a fisherman alongside Arthur. But times had changed, and now he was far more cautious around the water. He wasn't nearly as skilled of a sailor as Arthur was. If a storm crashed in on _him_, he knew he didn't stand a chance. So he taught himself how to work with cars, how to become a mechanic.

He wasn't nearly as good as Gilbert, but he did try.

"Hey, Alfred!" the German exclaimed, his pale hands already covered with a fine layer of grease. Typical Gilbert, getting started early. "Mrs. Putnam wants her oil checked."

Alfred snorted, grabbing his pair of overalls hanging by the door and throwing them on. "Barely here and you're already working me, aren't you?"

Gilbert laughed, sliding back under the car he was currently examining, a station wagon. "We have a busy day ahead of us," he explained, his voice coming out slightly muffled. "'Sides, Ludwig said that if we keep slacking off, he's gonna cut our pay. I'm not sure about you, but I find it very humiliating having my baby brother take some of my money off me."

Smirking, Alfred began looking over Mrs. Putnam's _Ford LTD Landau_ , pulling on gloves as he opened the car's hood. "Yeah, I'll bet that's humiliating. This is why I'm glad I don't work for Mattie."

"Isn't that your brother that moved up to Canada?" Gilbert asked. When Alfred grunted out an affirmative answer, Gilbert continued. "How's he doing, by the way? Is the air up there any better for him?"

"He's doing a lot better," Alfred responded, recalling how his little brother always had a difficult time breathing American air, even _when_ it was but a small, coastal town in the clear state of Maine. "I think he likes Canada more than he does America, anyway. He wants me to come up for a visit. Says the mountains are gorgeous."

"Why don't you?"

Alfred bit his lip, his mind straying from the oil he was meant to be checking. "Well, I have a lot of work here and-"

"Bullshit." Gilbert pulled himself out from underneath the car, glaring at Alfred incredulously. "We both know it's not work."

The younger man couldn't say anything. He turned his eyes to the inner workings of the car, fumbling with the dipstick.

Gilbert stood, running his dirty fingers through his silver hair. "Look, I know you're waiting on him, I know you've _been_ waiting on him, but it's been, what, a year since he was reported missing?"

"Gilbert, I don't need this now. Please." Alfred closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths as he thought of Arthur. "He was all I had. He was everything to me. He never once left me, and I'm not going to leave him. He told me he'd come back." His body stiffened involuntarily. "He _told_ me."

The German stared at him for a few seconds before turning away. "I miss him, too, Al. He was my friend. Despite how much we argued, I did care for him. I'm just unsure as to whether or not someone can come back from the dead."

"Gilbert!" Alfred snapped, swiveling his head to glare at his coworker. "He _isn't_ dead! I told you before that he's alive, that he's fine!"

Silence fell throughout the shop, both men staring at each other, their gaze only broken when the phone rang. "I'll get it," Gilbert muttered, grabbing a semi-clean rag from the station wagon and wiping his fingers down before walking into the office.

Alfred turned to the dipstick he had in his hands, only half seeing where the oil came up to. He hated it here. He hated the memories that haunted him, the things people said.

But Arthur was still out there, and Alfred wasn't going to leave him.

He still remembered the day Arthur went missing. It was locked away forever in his mind. The yelling. The screaming. The hateful comments thrown about without any concern for feelings. Arthur stomping away, Alfred calling out rude things after him, the tears in both their eyes, the false accusations lining their voices.

Arthur sailing out of sight in his fishing boat.

The storm coming into view twenty minutes later, and those waves crashing around.

The argument had started when Alfred mentioned the ugly wallpaper in their bathroom.

He didn't care about the wallpaper now. He would let their entire house become covered in that wallpaper if it meant Arthur would come home. He would do _anything_ if only Arthur could come back to him, come back safe and sound.

The day before his twenty-fifth birthday, he entered the car shop as usual, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He noticed Ludwig standing by the office, watching as his elder brother worked on a car.

"Don't mess it up, Gilbert," he scolded in a deep and commanding voice. "You've already put scratches on Mr. Lester's car."

Alfred smirked as Gilbert started grumbling about how unfair it was that his brother got to boss him around. They were close, but Ludwig was certainly the more responsible one of the two, the one better equipped to run a business. Try as he might, Gilbert wasn't good with that sort of thing.

Ludwig turned and faced him, his face softening just a little bit. Ever since Arthur disappeared, he had been more gentle with the young American. Though Alfred appreciated the gesture, he sometimes wished people would stop acting like Arthur was dead, stop treating him as if he was about to break into a million pieces at any given moment.

"Oh, hello Alfred," he greeted warmly, albeit a bit awkwardly. "You're not really supposed to be here, though. I thought I told you that you could have this week off."

Alfred raised his eyebrows, a smile on his face. "What, and sit around at home? I actually _like_ working on cars, Ludwig. Keeps me busy." Busy from spiraling down in a depression, that was for sure. "Whatcha got for me today?"

Though Ludwig looked uncertain, he gestured to Gilbert. "Well, I guess you can help him out. It seems we're going to be having a rather slow day today."

Alfred didn't exactly like slow days – they gave him less to do- but he wasn't going to complain. That would just be ridiculous. At least they were giving him _some_ sort of work, knowing all too well what he would be doing if he was at home by himself.

He made his way to Gilbert, grabbing his overalls and managing to pull them on once he stopped near the car they were working on. "So, what's the problem here?"

Gilbert grinned, obviously pleased to have some sort of company other than his brother. "This one is just a quick checkup to make sure everything is working a-okay before they head on out to Florida."

"They're certainly driving far, aren't they?" Alfred asked.

"Yup. Hey, hand me that rag, will ya? Their tires are disgusting. I don't think they've ever cleaned this damn car."

Alfred smirked. "Looks that way," he agreed, tossing the rag to Gilbert. "Then again, most people keep their cars messy. Cleaning it sometimes costs-" He was interrupted by the ringing of a bell up at the front desk and the sound of Ludwig greeting someone. "Another customer," he commented, feeling pleased that now they would have even _more_ cars to work on. He could use the distractions.

Gilbert, on the other hand, groaned. "_Mein gott,_ we're gonna be working our asses off if this keeps up."

Alfred laughed, then heard his name being loudly called. "Hold up, Gil. Seems your bro wants me to work on this one." He slapped Gilbert's back with a chuckle and turned, walking to the front desk.

What he saw, however, made him stop in his tracks, made his mouth open and his eyes widen.

"My goodness, Alfred. It's been a full year and you can't think of anything to say to me?" The customer raised his eyebrows, those large, adorable eyebrows, his perfect, green eyes sparkling.

"Ar-Arthur?" Alfred finally stammered, both confused and ecstatic at the same time. "Bu-But...how did you...?"

Arthur, looking just as good as he did when they last saw each other, walked around the gaping Ludwig to stand in front of his partner. "There's this little something called a map that helped me out greatly," the Englishman said humorously.

And then Alfred broke. He quickly reached forward and gathered Arthur up in a tight hug, sobbing into his shoulder. "I-I've waited for you," he gasped out. "I knew you were co-coming home, I knew it, and you-you're here!"

Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred, closing his eyes. "Yes, I'm here, love. Took me far too long, though. I apologize for worrying you so much."

Gilbert, who had heard Arthur's voice, came bounding up and stood next to his brother, both Germans looking more than amazed to see Arthur. "Where've _you_ been, Artie?" he asked, breaking into the sweet moment of the two lovers before him.

Arthur turned to smile at him, though he didn't let go of Alfred and Alfred _certainly_ didn't let go of him. "I was washed up on the shores of New Hampshire," he explained. "Couldn't remember a bloody thing. They kept me in a small hospital until I was able to care for myself, and then I moved in with this kind, old couple so they could continue to help me recuperate. People kept asking me who I was, where I'd come from, what happened, but I couldn't answer them, for I didn't even know." He gave a small chuckle. "Then I fell one day and everything came back to me. Hopped on the first bus I could to come back."

Alfred pulled away slightly, drying tears lining his cheeks. "I missed you so much," he whispered, placing his forehead on Arthur's. "You don't know how much I wanted you back."

"Oh, I can imagine. You always were quite clingy, weren't you?" Arthur smirked, and Alfred caught the glimpse of tears in his eyes. Before Alfred could say anything, Arthur continued. "And...well, I'm just in time for your birthday, aren't I? I can bake you a cake tomorrow and-"

"You don't have to bake if you don't want to," Alfred managed to breathe out with a hint of laughter. "I'm just glad you're home."

Arthur smiled softly. "As am I, love," he whispered. "And I'll never leave you again."

* * *

**/crawls away to die of embarrassment/  
**


End file.
